The Roman and The Scientists
by No.311
Summary: This meeting was bound to happen some time. But how will Roranicus deal with it? Roman Rory, Jack, Maddie, Eleventh Doctor. OneShot


**Li'l plotbunny here: Enjoy!**

**No.311**

In all his days as a plastic Roman guarding a black alien box made from alien technology that technically didn't exist (he had spent many, many days pondering on that one, not like he had anything better to do), Roranicus had never encountered a situation like this. Not only had he been forced to move from his usual spot near the Pandorica, he was also in grave danger.

"STAY STILL YOU ECTOPLASMIC SCUM!"

The big, square man in the jumpsuit behind him shouted. He had a nasty looking bazooka on his shoulder, and Rory figured that, if he got hit by that, he could wave his plastic skin goodbye, and with it his job, the ability to mangle under the London people, and the possibilities to avoid dismantling. The man fired the bazooka, and Rory ducked behind a potted plant. Stupid, he knew, but it was the only thing he could do. The man missed. Lucky him. But the wall was not so lucky. It had a deep, gaping hole in it, right to the dinosaur section. At least one skeleton was damaged too much to be recovered. Rory could almost visibly see his wages lower.

"I'm not a ghost! Ghosts don't exist!"

Technically, a plastic, self-aware plastic puppets with a gun in their hand and the consciousness of a man erased from time shouldn't exist either, but the man didn't need to know that.

"A-HA! Only a GHOST would say that!" The man readied his gun, until…

"JACK!" a woman, probably his wife, in a teal jumpsuit, came at the scene.

"But Maddie…"

"No! We promised Danny and Jazz to at least let him talk!" She glared at Rory. Rory just straightened his centurion's helmet. Why, oh why, did they have to turn up right on the exact day he decided to put his costume back on, for old time's sake?

"So," the woman turned to him. "Spill."

"Wha-? How do you mean 'Spill.'? What in the name of Jupiter—" Ah, Pluto. Old habits die hard, Rory supposed.

"He confessed! He's a GHOST!" The man cried. Rory wished he had some way to shut down his hearing. As a plastic android, he had oversensitive hearing, and it felt like a heavy bell was ringing in his head.

"So you admit being a Roman?"

"Well, yeah, but…" Rory tried to explain, but the woman didn't wait for his answer.

"You admit being the 'Lone Centurion'?"

Rory didn't answer, though the answer itself was probably pretty obvious. 'Nice tactics, Rory!', he berated himself, he should have let his Roman instincts do the tactics (having two sets of memories could be handy… sometimes…). On the second thought, that wasn't a great idea either, with the code of honour and such…

"I take that as a yes. Just confess, Centurion, nobody can live for 2000 years except for a ghost." And a plastic Android, Rory sighed. The large man looked skittish and overly joyed at the prospect of him being a ghost. But wait! The bulb of ideas just lighted up in Rory's mind.

"How do you know I'm not some actor, hired by the museum to play the legend?"

"Because an hired actor wouldn't say such things. They would immediately claim that they were actors." Damn. This day just got better and better.

"Now, _Ghost_." She spat the word _ghost_. "You can either be caught by us and brought to the lab, or be bound by us and come to the lab. And then, we can dissect you in the lab."

"But I am NOT a ghost!" Rory said, while the large man positioned his bazooka again.

"What are you then?" The woman said, unconvinced.

"I am the protector of the Pandorica! I won't leave! Not until it has opened! Not until the stars are back in the sky!"

"But stars don't exist! They're a Roman myth, stemming from the mention of stars from the old Greek myths! Don't you dare tell me stars are real! Danny has tried enough times already, but there is no scientific evidence that they are real. And you are no protector, you are a ghost. You are evil. It's in your nature." Rory had an open mind. No species was evil by nature. But that was not relevant now. The man had shot a net at him, and he couldn't reach his sword.

"What do I have to do for you to realize that I'm NOT a ghost!" Rory was desperate.

The woman sighed.

"Jack! Bring the specter deflector! Now, Centurion, If you are a ghost, this will hurt. A lot. You'll probably be electrocuted. Normally, we don't use this, as our specimens will get damaged, so don't say we didn't tell you."

"Can I do it, Maddie?" The man practically bounced up and down.

"Sure, Jack, honey."

Jack put the specter deflector around Rory. He seemed really bouncy at first, but that gradually disappeared when nothing happened.

"So you really are not a ghost." The woman said, a bit down. The man was pouting.

"No! I've been telling you all along!"

"But how can you be 2000 years old then?"

Think fast, Rory, think fast! "Uh, it's a family tradition! I really am a Roman, like my father, my father's father, my father's father's father, and so on! And I _am_ the Lone Centurion right now!" Rory decided he would be really lucky if this worked.

"Oh, well, it's time for us to go then—" Right when he was overjoyed that he got away with this cheap lie, Rory heard a flash.

"So, Roranicus! How's your plastic-y body now? And who're your friends? Hello! I'm The Doctor!" No… No… Why? Not now! He looked at his right, and saw the Doctor, with his semi-usual fez, and his mop.

"Rory, your hand's open." The Doctor pointed at his hand a few times, and Rory realized it was really open, the gun clearly visible.

The man and the woman in jumpsuits were staring at him and the Doctor in a mixture of shock, curiosity and a slight hunger for knowledge. The man even eyed the fez a few times. (Rory really hoped the man would get any ideas about wearing fezzes, for his own sake.)

Rory's mouth opened and closed a few times. Then he just glared at the Doctor.

**Li'l plotbunny that came up in my head. Hope you liked it. Read and Review people. Or favourite. Favoriting is good too.**


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